


New Intelligence

by maybethefall



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Co-Conspirators, F/M, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 20:55:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1872147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybethefall/pseuds/maybethefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa learns new information about Petyr's role in her father's betrayal. The way she received that information raised just as much alarm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Intelligence

He was not a scheduled guest. In fact, his sudden arrival from King's Landing struck her odd. Still, she tried her best to act as the lady of the house. When Petyr asked her to join them for a conversation, she accepted without hesitation.

But Sansa ended up sitting silent throughout their meeting, at first feigning interest in her needlework as Petyr handled the conversation. While Petyr was cagy, even vague in his recollections, the other man was candid. Though they tracked through various bits of shared history, there was certain pieces of information he seemed eager to go over: the City Watch, bribery and betrayal. Petyr changed the subject as quickly possible, saying "What is right for the kingdom doesn't always appear to be right from the outside. But someone had to protect the realm just the same." 

Sansa concentrated on her sewing, her eyes drifting up from it on rare occasions. Each time she managed to catch that the man's eyes set upon her. Each time, she offered him a carefree smile before returning to her work and the new information that danced within her mind.

Sansa didn't notice who had led their guest away. She continued on with her sewing. She caught Petyr rise from his seat out of the corner of her eye. He crossed the room to stand near her and placed a hand on top of hers. She recoiled and shifted away from him, burying her hands in her lap. He moved and took the seat across from hers. She looked up and met his furrowed brow and tense mouth head-on. Had she not known better, she would have taken his expression as a sign of concern. “I want to…,” he began.

Something in her expression made him stop. Sansa could only imagine how she looked to him, all wide eyes and blank, hard face. Petyr opened his mouth to speak again but she pressed the index finger against his lips.

Sansa pushed the needlework away as she rose to walk away. Heat rushed through her as she walked to the windows. Air: she needed crisp, cool air. Wasn't that what any Stark needed to think clearly? She opened the window and took a deep breath. She stared out at the sky but could not see, her mind still reeling. She felt his hand grasp her arm. She did not react.

“We need to discuss this,” he said.

“Why, Lord Baelish? I understand all too well.”

“Do you?”

She nodded. “It is foolish to enter a hostile realm and do things like accuse the Queen of indecency and claim the royal children to be bastards. Anyone who would do such things should expect the worst.”

“But?”

Sansa slipped his grasp and turned to him, saying, “But he was my father. He was a good man—an honorable man. And he _trusted_ you, gods know why. If his plans were meant to fail, they would do so by their own merits. The Lannisters had no intentions of letting him succeed. It wasn't your place to make it easier for them.”

"It wasn't a matter of responsibility or 'place.'"

Sansa turned to him, eyes narrowed, and hissed, "It wasn't your place."

He paused and, after a moment's hesitation, nodded his concession. "Is that all?"

She looked at him strangely. Hadn't she said it all? But his meaning dawned on her. For a moment, she smiled, the bizarre humor of the situation overtaking her. But that moment passed as she began to assemble her conclusions. She furrowed her brow and asked, "Did you know he was coming?"

"I had no idea. I did not invite him and he sent no word ahead of his arrival."

"Why did he say he came?"

"To celebrate my recent nuptials," he replied, lips turning up slightly at the edges.

Much to her chagrin, she could feel her expression mirroring his. "That can't be true," she said with a laugh. "News should have made its way to King's Landing of Lady Lysa's death and your appointment as Lord Protector."

"And yet he had no clue."

She turned away. "And no word of a sudden family member who was traveling with you?"

The slipped close to her and said, "He had heard of Alayne. He wanted to meet her."

"Then I can't believe that he was ignorant of the rest."

"Nor can I."

She glanced back at him over her shoulder. Petyr stared at her, brows raised and a slight smirk set across his lips. "Then why allow him in the castle? Why let us meet? Why let me hear what he had to say?"

Petyr grabbed her arm and urged her body to turn to face him. She sighed as she allowed her body to shift. "It would be more suspicious to deny him. And I had no clue as to what he wanted to discuss. It could have all been harmless."

"But what if he recognized me?"

"Did you ever meet him?" She shook her head. "Then the chances of him recognizing you as Sansa Stark are minimal especially …"

"...since I gave no reaction to his grievous information. He was probably expected some sort of acknowledgement."

He nodded. "You gave him nothing but a few smiles."

"Then this was all some sort of fact finding mission or perhaps a chance to sow dissent."

"That would be my guess."

"But who would have sent him on this mission?"

"It could be anyone. You are still wanted for Joffrey's murder. I could be suspected of hiding you given my past relationship with your mother. They could even assume I hold the crown accountable for her death and approve of what you've done." He placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "They assume I know you to be a killer. If you know what I did to your father, I should fear that you will take revenge against me. I should turn you over to the crown to save my skin."

"And you, the man I ran to in my time of need is not who I assumed you were. Will you betray me as well? I should turn myself over to crown, confess my sins and tell them about some of yours as well."

"It's a fool's errand," he conceded with a nod and a smikle. "I would never consider such an option."

"Nor would I," she said with a slight laugh. "I have plans—no, we have plans. They won't be pushed aside to return to...that place and their ideas of justice."

He nodded. "And what will you do with your new knowledge?"

"I can't forget it. I won't forgive it. But something bigger is in play now."

He extended his hand to her. "We will deal with this at a later date."

Sansa nodded. She threaded her fingers next to his and tightened her grip. "We will cross that bridge again when we reach it."

Petyr placed a hand on her back and pulled her closer. He glanced up into her eyes and said, "I fear that revenge may not taste so sweet once you've done what is needed to place you back in Winterfell."

"Perhaps not. But I can't overlook this act. I cannot place this aside."

His eyes drifted away, a wistful crinkle forming as he squinted. "As you wish." His hand fell away from her back. He stepped back a few space, still holding one of her hands. Slowly he leaned in a placed a kiss on the hand. "I will leave you to your thoughts," he said as he let her fingers slip past his.

Petyr turned and walked away.

Sansa stood stiff against the window, her eyes still focused on the door. She brought the kissed hand to her mouth and placed her lips where his had just been. Again, the heat rushed through her body. She turned back to the window and stared out into the darkening horizon. She smiled as the cool wind began to flow in and envelope her. In a world of uncertainty, the cool wind was all the felt genuine and right.


End file.
